


Saved

by giovannistark (giostiel)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Art, Books, Cancer, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Parent Pepper Potts, Poetry, Protective Pepper, Sick Tony Stark, Stony - Freeform, Super Soldier Serum, Superhusbands, Tony Angst, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giostiel/pseuds/giovannistark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark knows that the metallic device implanted in his chest is only slowing down the cancer in his heart, not getting rid of it. With the little time he has left, the doomed kid-that’s-grown-up-too-fast lives on, writing poetry and trying to make the best of his now shortened life. When Pepper, his overprotective, adoptive mother forces him to join a Cancer Support Group in the nearby college, Tony meets Steve Rogers, an art major who charms his way into Tony’s iron heart.</p><p>Based on ‘The Fault In Our Stars’ by John Green.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fixed

**Author's Note:**

> **Story was rewritten!**
> 
> Cover can be found at http://bit.ly/1a1D5cx

Death is inevitable. Death is something that forces it’s way into your life and cuts it short. Ever since my mother (or father, or anyone, really) dropped me off on the front step of the worn down orphanage, leaving a note that stated only my name and that something was wrong with my heart, my fate was set in stone. As with everyone, I would come to know death eventually, but for me, death was like a minefield, one wrong step and I would find myself in oblivion.

The caretakers at the orphanage extended the short amount of time I had left to the best of their abilities. However, at the age of seven, death was staring me straight in the eye. I was diagnosed with terminal heart cancer and the orphanage just didn’t have enough money to take care of me anymore, nor could they pay for surgery and other medical bills. There was nothing the doctors could do anymore, especially considering how young I was, so I was stuck on my death bed for months, lying down in silence, waiting for death to take over me. I was left to fight off death by myself.

The silence was not too vicious on my young self, however. The other children came to play with me sometimes, though most did not understand my condition and soon grew bored of my lack of being able normal things. As the visits from my housemates shortened and length, eventually diminishing, my caretakers began to bring books. They gave me books on poetry, books of fiction, a divergence of stories that helped occupy the short amount of time I had left.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that no one wanted to adopt the kid with terminal heart cancer, or any type of illness for that matter. No one wanted to see their child-adopted or not-dying, and not being able to do a damn thing about it. Though that is not always the case. Five days before my estimated time of death, a prestigious woman with heels that looked like they hurt and hair blonde and silky, walked into the orphanage, asking for me. One of the caretakers took her into the small office at the front of the orphanage and closed the door behind them so that they could talk in private.

Half an hour later, both the caretaker and the blonde woman walked out of the office and into my barely-furnished room, both smiling brightly. The blonde woman kneeled next to my bed and held my hand in hers, a grin plastered on her face.

“Hello Tony, my name is Pepper Potts,” she said. “I’m going to adopt you.” As a seven year old without hope, I was shocked at the woman. I was dying in a couple of days, and here she was, telling me that she was going to adopt a dying cancer kid.

“My father owns Potts Industries,” she continued. Never going to school or out in public, I was unfamiliar with the name.

“We have technology that can fix your heart,” she said, her grin widening. My face lit up at her words. My heart, fixed? Was that even possible? I had so many questions to ask the woman, but I was silenced at the thought of finally being able to live a normal life.

A majority of my questions were answered the day after, after the adoption process was finished, which, now that I think about, went by incredibly fast, though I did not complain. I was brought to a hospital that had the smell of sanitation that I had grown used to and it looked better and newer than all of the hospitals I’ve been to in the past combined. I was placed on a bed in a dotted blue hospital gown and the surgeon smiled at me as the anesthesia started to take effect.

“You’ll be fixed,” he said, moving the surgical face mask over his mouth and nose.

He was right. When I woke up, I felt something heavy in my chest. When the medication wore off and my vision focused, I looked to see that there was a device implanted into my chest that emitted a pretty blue glow. I was fascinated by it, tracing around the metallic circle, not feeling any more pain. Pepper came in a couple minutes later, beaming widely with tears running down her face. She embraced me tightly, whispering over and over again, “it worked.”

That was a decade ago, I’m seventeen now. I learned that the metallic device-dubbed ‘Arc Reactor-did not get rid of the terminal cancer in my heart, but simply slowed it down greatly. Death was no longer staring me in the eye, but I knew it was still there. Somewhere. Hiding in the shadows. With every day, it approaches closer, just like it had before, only slower.

So I, Tony Stark, wait patiently as death tiptoes towards me, not bothering to run away from something that is inevitable.


	2. Love of Poetry

The blue light emitting from my chest allowed me to read the small hardcover book in the surrounding darkness. I lie down on a bed too big for me, wide awake with my sheets half on me. The bright red light on the alarm clock next to me read 3:26 A.M. I rarely sleep anymore. With the amount of time I have left becoming shorter and shorter, I decide to stay up for as long as possible, not letting any of my remaining time go to waste. However, it still does go to waste. The only time I walk out of the mansion, that in my opinion is way too big for Pepper and I, is when I go to doctors and Potts Industries scientists for checkups.

I finished college a year ago, at the age of sixteen. Despite my cancer, it turns out that I am, not to boast, a practical genius. Although I started two years late, I went through school like I wasn’t slowly dying because God (or whoever runs this damned world) decided to give me a faulty heart that’s slowly killing me. I skipped several grades, and have already achieved a PhD in various areas of Engineering and Physics, though the knowledge I have gained and the time I had spent in the nine years of education has not helped my condition at all.

No matter what they do to me or the Arc Reactor, nothing is stopping the heart cancer. Not chemotherapy, or radiation, nothing. Doctors suggested that I just allow the Arc Reactor to slow down the cancer and to not count my days, but live the rest of them to the fullest. Easier said than done, I told them. I didn’t have many friends, for the only thing people find interesting about me is the beam of light coming from my chest, and when they find out what it’s for, they turn away, not wanting to be friends with a dying person.

So I escape the real world. Since I finished college, I spend my time in my room, secretly inventing things for Potts Industries, figuring out mathematical equations, and reading and writing poetry. The book I’m currently reading is one that I’ve read many, many times. It was the book that got me interested in poetry in the first place. It was one of the first books I was given in the orphanage. The intricate design of the book intrigued me, and although I couldn’t understand most of the words, it became my favorite book. The book was titled ‘The Hidden Demons’ by Jasper S. The writings of the author had me hooked. The love poems in there were so tragic, but revealed the true identity of undying affection for someone that did not love you back.

I, for one, have never loved, and honestly, I never hope to. I know that I will die before I find anyone to love, and even if I do, I do not want to burden them with my cancer. I do not want anyone to miss me when I die. Pepper, I cannot help, because she’s been by my side since she showed up in my room at the orphanage. She was the one that saved me. But other than that, I don’t have many friends, and I would like to keep it that way. I don’t want people to mourn over someone who did absolutely nothing in the world.

Another reason why I don’t love goes into a further philosophy. The writings in the book show that love can and will hurt. But at the same time, it shows how rewarding love is. The feeling of being able to give somebody your heart, whether replaced by light-emitting metal or not, is a feeling of pure bliss.

For example, the first poem of the book shows that at times, love can save you. (Though I do not plan on being saved any time soon.)

_Save me from the fire,_   
_same me from the burn,_   
_for caution is not_   
_something that I have learned._

_Teach me how to love,_   
_teach me how to sin._   
_Against my demons,_   
_teach me how to win._

_Take me from the evil,_   
_take me from the pain._   
_Bring me out of the storm,_   
_for my sadness is the rain._

_Bring me out of the hell_   
_that I’ve been dragged to,_   
_bring me out of the hell_   
_that is without you._

_Bring me to heaven,_   
_peace I will come to know,_   
_for the love there is beautiful,_   
_and your face seems to glow._

Maybe one day, the scientists and doctors can find a way to save me. Maybe one day, I will find a person that will love me, despite death approaching me. Maybe one day, I will live to grow old with the person I love.

Just like death, love is inevitable. But on the opposite side of the coin, love, like life, can be cut short.


End file.
